I’ve been praying.
I know there are people who think praying for “trivial” things is silly, but I pray when I get a paper cut. And I messy-pray. I mean I sound like an over exhausted toddler God has to constantly carry around on His hip.
I’m thirty-six. I should be invested in the lives of celebrities I’ll never meet and airfrying the blinds on our windows, but I’m at the point in life where I only have one question on my mind 99% of the time:
God, what is it you want me to do?
I’m a writer by trade. Okay, maybe not by trade because that would insinuate I actually make a living at this gig. I don’t. I do it because my heart loves it, and everything in my DNA tells me this is what He wants from me. I used to not think that way. I used to be an atheist who thought I was randomly born with a genius hardly anybody understood, which in my mind, naturally made me better than pretty much anyone.
Obviously, I was never really good at math.
I’m the current day Paul of Tarsus, scales at my feet and my eyes wide open. And I’m looking around and want to shake everyone and go, “KIM KARDASHIAN DOESN’T CARE IF YOU GET EXTENSIONS TO LOOK LIKE HER!” but I feel like my noise would fall on deaf ears.
And yet? Jesus has written a message within me, and I know I’m tasked to put it on (digital) paper. Okay, and real paper, too. So my prayer, the answered portion of the “What should I do?” question is this:
What I made you to do.
My newsletter peeps already know how I shut down my social media and my blog. All that social stuff is gone for good for me (I enjoy quiet and living life without captioning it in my head for Insta way too much). But I missed blogging. It’s going to look different. All my past posts (I’ve started to add them to “Archive” in the menu bar if you want to check them out) served their purpose. Now, I think I’m just supposed to show you who I am without a smidge of pretense. I am a woman child who still likes Hanson and wonders why nobody smiles anymore. I’m a woman child who’s loved by Jesus and wants to show that love to others. Not to convert them. I can do no such thing. But to remind them whose they are, and to pray deeply that they return to a Father who’s never stopped loving them.
Also? I’m back to writing a book. It’s a small and secret project that I might talk little about or everything about. Who knows with me.
I’m grateful to be walking on the right path. Funny how many twists and turns there always are but I suppose that’s half the fun of it.
In the meantime, I hope God’s limbered up that hip of His. I feel another prayer coming on.